ASOIAF Stories and Discussion
by Boltstriker
Summary: Winter is coming, and so are the many wonderful untold tales of the world of ice and fire, as well as some thought-provoking discussion of the series' minor details that change the whole story. If you would like a story to become a full-fledged fanfiction on its own, please contact me. Otherwise, the mini-story chapter will be uploaded in no specific order. DISCLAIMER: DON'T SUE ME
1. Seven Kingdoms Beyond: Chapter 1

Seven Kingdoms Beyond

This is an idea I had a while ago while I was planning out how the plot of Fire and Ice would go. This idea stemmed from the epilogue. This will spoil what happens after the end of my version of ADoS, which sort of ruins the non-closure ending I had in mind. If you don't want closure for Fire and Ice when I come out with the end of the story, don't read this until it's done.

"Jarvis, why do they always hold the council meetings at Casterly Rock?" asked Lady Daenerys Lannister.

Daenerys was an olive-skinned woman of Dorne, originally hailing from House Allyrion, named for the legendary queen that conquered the Seven Kingdoms in the Second War of Conquest. Since then, the Targaryens had tried to come back many times since. The Third War of Conquest was their first failure after the last Targaryen's bastard's grandson was discovered in the Riverlands. After the seventh try, the Westerosi decided just to let them stay as reigning lords of the Crownlands on the condition they never tried to take over again.

"It's not my job to determine where the Council of Nine meets, my sweet. Last time we held the meeting at Riverrun, so this time it is our turn to host," said Lord Jarvis Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West.

Jarvis was a fair-skinned blonde with a bulky torso, though he was unmatched in the department of wits. There had been a saying that the Lannisters could only be smart or strong, but Jarvis had proved them wrong, advising the maesters of the Citadel and fighting in tilts on any given day. He had put an end to the stain on House Lannister that had been there since the rise of Queen Cersei the Brotherfucker.

The high lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms arrived at Casterly Rock at high noon. First came Princess Nymeria Martell of Dorne and her husband Ser Rhaegar Targaryen. Following the Martells came their greatest allies, Lord Daeron Targaryen and his wife Lady Laela Celtigar. Then came Lord Loren Tyrell and his wife Lady Alys Stark. After them came Lady Lyanna Stark, and after her came Lord Edmund Tully and his wife Lady Cassana Seaworth, and after them came Lord Gendry Baratheon and his wife Lady Tyria Lannister. Finally Lady Alayne Baelish came alongside King Urrigon Greyjoy, the representative from the Kingdom of the Iron Islands.

"Casterly Rock is always delightful this time of year," said King Urrigon, whose tone of voice suggested that he would rather loot it than hold council in it.

"Indeed," agreed Lady Alayne, "So nice of you to hold council here, Lord Jarvis."

Jarvis replied, "Anything for the realm, my lady."

The lords and ladies assembled in the council room of Casterly Rock, which Jarvis had the staff set up a week in advance. They sat at their assigned places, each decorated with the colors of their house. Princess Nymeria sat at a place decorated with the sun and spear of her house, with an orange and red chair to sit in. Lord Daeron got a red dragon place set and a black and red chair, and Lord Loren sat at a golden rose place set with a green and gold chair. A direwolf place set and grey and white chair for Lady Lyanna, a silver trout place set and a red and blue chair for Lord Edmund, a black stag place set and a black and yellow chair for Lord Gendry, a silver Titan head place set and a green and silver chair for Lady Alayne, and a golden kraken place set and a black and gold chair for King Urrigon. Their spouses sat next to them in chairs of equal size, but they were not customized and were the normal crimson and gold of House Lannister.

"You did a wonderful job setting this up, my lord," said Princess Nymeria, her words flowing like the Dornish lilt of her voice. It was one of the reasons Jarvis fell in love with Dany.

"Thank me not, Princess Nymeria. Thank my household staff, who did the work to prepare this meeting," said Jarvis.

"I hope your staff made us a good meal too," laughed Lord Loren heartily.

 _This. This is what we've all hoped for in the realm for thousands of years; lords and ladies who actually like each other._ In truth, the realm had only had this kind of stability for a hundred years, ever since King Nestor V Arryn surrendered his crown to the Democratic Rebels, a band of political rebels yearning to take down the monarchy. Soon after, the Council of Nine was established, where it was decreed that there would be eight lords and ladies of the eight realms of Westeros, and a spot reserved for the king of the Iron Islands. The isles had gained their independence during the Second War of Conquest when King Aegon the Reasoned and Queen Daenerys the Fierce failed to take back the islands from King Euron III Greyjoy.

"I call this meeting to order," announced Jarvis. Since he was hosting the meeting, he was the one to call and adjourn it.

"Lord Jarvis," started King Urrigon, "I have a matter to discuss about the trade situation between our nations. It has come to my attention that the people of Lannisport are refusing to give their products to the Iron Islands. My subjects seem to think it was you who gave this order, my lord."

"King Urrigon, I may make ill decisions from time to time, but I am not so stupid as to cut off trade with the Iron Islands. My house has a cadet branch in the city, and I will send for my cousins to rectify this issue," Jarvis said politely.

"Excellent," the king said sternly.

"Now that we've gotten that easy matter out of the way, let's deal with the famine in the Riverlands and the North," snarled Lord Edmund, glaring at Lord Loren.

Edmund Tully was a gruff man, and not above insulting people to their face. But Lord Loren Tyrell controlled the Roseroad, as well as all contact to Oldtown, and insulting him would open a wound that might not heal.

"Indeed," agreed Lady Lyanna, "My maester has received threatening messages from Lords Karstark, Bolton, and Manderly. I am afraid one of them will raise an army against Winterfell, as they seem to think it is House Stark's fault for this famine."

"That's because they've got shit for brains," Lord Gendry chuckled, sloshing around the wine in his goblet.

"Settle down, my lord," said Jarvis. "Lord Loren, are you behind this famine? I received a raven from Lord Redwyne two days ago, asking if we could bring up an issue regarding the closing of the Roseroad."

"I'm not one to close the Roseroad for no reason!" exclaimed Tyrell. "Lord Edmund left out why I closed it. He threatened to send a fleet up the Mander if I didn't betroth my daughter Willa to his son Robb, so I threatened to close the Roseroad. I saw the silver trout flags sailing up the river from my chambers at Highgarden, so I closed the road the next day."

"Lord Loren, Lord Edmund, if this was going to cause an issue, why did you not wait until the next meeting? Didn't your maesters ever tell you about the War of the Five Kings? Nothing good can come from inter-kingdom warfare," Lord Jarvis scolded.

"Then let us make terms," said Lord Daeron. "I cannot afford to send food up the kingsroad much longer when my lands hold the biggest slum in the realm."

"Well remind me again who was supposed to fix that problem, Lord Targaryen," snarled Lord Tyrell.

Daeron stood up, his hand on his dagger in its scabbard.

"Settle down!" boomed Lord Lannister.

"You're acting like great buffoons, my lords, and I won't allow it in my house!" agreed Lady Daenerys.

"Father, Lady Lyanna, Lord Loren, Lord Edmund," said Ser Rhaegar calmly, "There must be an easy way to fix this."

 _Every meeting ends up like this_ , thought Jarvis, _A fight breaks out and Ser Rhaegar Targaryen has to calm it down._ In truth, Ser Rhaegar, called Ser Rhaegar the Breaker, was probably the best man in the realm to calm things down. He was given his nickname at first for his legendary defeat of Emmon Arryn in the Arryn Uprising, but now his name was used as an attest to his mediation skills.

"Lord Tully, why do you need Robb and Willa to marry?" asked Princess Nymeria.

"The Reach is the second most powerful kingdom in the realm! Why wouldn't I need to secure an alliance like that!" exclaimed Lord Edmund.

Lady Alys stood up in anger, "You could have negotiated that peacefully, instead of sending ships up the Mander because you wanted to take my daughter away from me!"

"We need to find a solution to this. Wars have started for less," said King Urrigon. "I would know, I started them."

"Enough of your japes, you kraken-fucking pirate!" Lord Edmund howled.

"That's it, Tully! You've gone too far!"

The Greyjoy king reached for his longsword, but it was Lady Baelish who broke the tension.

"If you warmongering barbarians refuse to stop this idiotic fighting, then all of you should be removed from your positions on this accursed council!"

That was when the voices stopped. Lady Baelish was a courtly woman who never spoke a word against anyone. No one would have ever expecting something like that to come from the lips of the Lady of the Vale.

Lord Gendry broke the silence, "Well, Lord Jarvis, you're the mediator. What say you?"

"I say that this marriage proposal never be spoken of again. No action will be taken because of it, nor will any action be taken because of this meeting. If I hear one more word of this, I'll have you all hanged."

"Have me hanged?" demanded King Urrigon. "You're not my sovereign! There's no sovereign in this whole bloody nation!"

"Then we'll have a vote – kingsmoot style, if it please you – for who will be the leader of this council," said Jarvis steely.

"Lord Jarvis, are you out of your mind? Remember what the Arryns did in the last dynasty? This would be akin to reinstating the monarchy," Lady Alayne asked, shocked.

"If reinstating the monarchy is the only thing that will keep civil war from happening because of a betrothal, then so be it. I will not allow this realm to fall apart as long as I live," Jarvis said coldly.

"Lannister, you realize if you do this, it means war," said Lord Edmund.

"And, if it does mean war, it's a perfect way for the Arryns or the Velaryons or any other exiled dynasty to come back and take the realm for their own," advised Lady Tyria. "Jar, you're smarter than that."

Lord Daeron spoke this time, "I think it's a great idea. A head councilman would be able to have supreme authority in the case of a tie decision, or mediate a growing feud _such as this one_."

"All in favor?" asked Jarvis.

To his surprise, his idea got a majority, with himself, Daeron, Gendry, Lyanna, and Loren supporting, while Alayne, Edmund, Nymeria, and Urrigon dissenting.

"Well, then we meet in Oldtown, where King Aegon I Targaryen was crowned, in two fortnights. King Urrigon, you are welcome to attend if you would like. This is for every man in Westeros, so send word to your bannermen. Major changes are required in our government structure in order for this realm to survive.


	2. A Bright Flame: Chapter 1

A Bright Flame

Aerion rose early that morning, for today was the day Ser Andrew was going to knight him. From the age of twelve, Aerion had squired for Andrew of House Jasper, a house sworn to House Corbray. Now, at ten-and-eight, Aerion would finally be knighted. Unfortunately for him, it was a fairly dingy path he had to look forward to, as Ser Andrew was in the service of Lord Steffon Winchester, a drunk old man whose father was a landed knight who gained his knighthood in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Lord Winchester was never kind to Aerion or Ser Andrew, but he at least allowed them house space, and it was all worth it for Lady Eden. Lady Eden Winchester had a certain wildness in her, and was always the first to rebel against her father when he made an unwise decision. She never wanted to be a lady, but she was born into a noble house and so there she stayed. Aerion was definitely smitten with her, and would try and talk to her at any chance he could get.

But this was not the point of today. Aerion walked from his bedchambers and out to the courtyard of the Winfort, where Ser Andrew held his sword aloft.

"Aerion, you've been a great squire for these past six years," said Andrew. Ser Andrew was a gruff man of about nine-and-twenty, and he had been battle-hardened from fighting in Robert's Rebellion. "I'm very proud to be able to knight you on this day."

Andrew raised his sword. Aerion noticed the crowd around him – Lord Winchester, Lady Eden, Eden's companion Kate, Ser Cyrus Wendwater, the man-at-arms for the Winfort, and all the servants. It was quite overwhelming, especially for a lowborn man like him.

"In the sight of gods and men, I name you Ser Aerion. May the Warrior grant you strength, may the Crone grant you wisdom, and may the Father judge you justly when you perish from this world, defending the realm." Ser Andrew's blade touched his shoulders, the steel sending cold down his arms. "Rise Ser Aerion."

Aerion rose from his kneeling position, and the crowd cheered. Except Lord Steffon, of course, because Lord Steffon Winchester would only ever cheer if his daughter was wed to the King of the Seven Kingdoms, as he so incessantly told everyone.

There was not to be a feast, for there was no honor nor honors in the Winfort. It was in their words, anyway, _Fight for Victory, not Honor_. _If I see those words under that stupid greyhound one more time, I'm going to shoot myself in the cock with a crossbow_ , thought Aerion. This turned Aerion to current events, since it was always funny to learn what idiotic things Cersei Lannister did this time. Ser Andrew burst out laughing when he heard about her imprisonment, which earned him three nights of shackles.

In lack of honors, Lady Eden visited Aerion's chambers late in the evening with a bowl of stew.

"Your feast, Ser Aerion," said Lady Eden, presenting the food quite sarcastically. "How does it feel to be a knight?"

"Thanks to your father, quite the same. I'm convinced he only wants me around because of my sword," Aerion said, chuckling.

"Where did you get that thing anyway? It's made of Valyrian fucking steel." Lady Eden had always been foul-mouthed – it was another thing Aerion liked about her.

"I nicked off some trader in Braavos. One of the perks of being born in the Free Cities is that you can steal fancy stuff."

"You never told me who your parents were," Lady Eden said, moving closer to Aerion.

"I never knew them. I think they were Lyseni, because of my hair color, but I'm not even sure."

"Your hair color tells one story, but your eyes another." Aerion had striking violet eyes, which earned him many glaring looks from those in service to the Lannisters or Baratheons.

"You like my eyes, m'lady?" Aerion asked pseudo-politely.

"Don't get the wrong idea, ser. You know how many people here at the Winfort want you dead."

"Yes, a couple of servants and your friend Kate. I know about her, she tried to smother me with a pillow two years ago. Oh, and your father, but I'm sure he wants everybody dead."

"Shut up about my father," said Lady Eden as she leaned in closer.

 _Fucking great_ , thought Aerion, _someone has to attack_ now.

The door to the Winfort shattered in an instant, and hundreds of sellswords poured into the castle. Outside his window, Aerion could see a man clad in black and red armor on a white horse, brandishing the banner of . . . _House Targaryen?_

"Lady Eden, you need to get out of here. I can fight these bloody bastards off!" Aerion yelled.

"I can fight just as well as you," Eden protested, and she picked up a regular steel sword. Aerion followed her to protect her, slashing sellswords in half. They made it to the courtyard, and Eden gave him a look that meant they should escape. The black-clad soldier still sat atop his horse, smirking at the destruction. Aerion did something very stupid and equally dangerous.

"Aye, what in seven hells is this for?"

The soldier on the white horse looked down and took off his helm. "Who do you think you are?"

"Ser Aerion, a knight in service to Lord Winchester. Who the fuck are you?"

"King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of My Name. I could have you hanged for that comment."

Lady Eden stepped forward, "Stop this madness!"

"Yield your castle, and I shall. My men have slain Lord Winchester, so I assume his daughter could yield it for him."

"I yield the Winfort," Eden cried in desperation, "to whoever you are."

"Thank you," said King Aegon. A man next to him screamed, "THE CASTLE HAS BEEN YIELDED! RETREAT IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!"

As the sellswords rushed out of the castle, most covered in blood, Aerion looked around at the wreckage. Almost every servant was dead, and everyone else certainly was. As much as Aerion hated Kate, it was strangely sad to see her head smashed in. Either thankfully or unfortunately, Ser Andrew was not even anywhere to be found.

Aerion led Eden out of the ruined castle and together they followed Aegon Targaryen back to his camp.

"I've never even heard of a King Aegon, not since the Fifth one at least," said Aerion to Aegon.

"My father was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and that makes me the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. You said you were a knight? You must be quite inexperienced if you find it fit to insult a king," said King Aegon.

A grey-haired man stepped into Aegon's tent, "Settle down, Your Grace. These two are simply distressed. Besides, you are not paying attention – this one has a Valyrian steel sword. He could be of great help to us, maybe even on your Kingsguard."

"You told me that my Kingsguard should be reserved for esteemed knights or sons of lords, Lord Jon."

"He may not be an esteemed knight or a son of a lord, but he has your blood."

"The Blood of Old Valyria is in many people, my lord."

"Not just the blood of Valyria, the blood of your father, and your father's father, and especially your father's father's father. Do you not see it? The blond hair, the violet eyes, the cruel features? Varys told me about this one."

"Excuse me," Aerion said, "But can you please refer to me by my name?"

"Of course I can, Ser Aerion Brightflame."


	3. Wings Spread Wide: Chapter 1

Wings Spread Wide

So I was on /r/asoiaf the other day, and I came across the once-a-month arbitrary "Create a House" thread, and I came up with an idea for a Vale house sworn to House Waynwood. I created a few members of the house, and I decided, why not write a fanfiction about it? So, for my third story in the ASOIAF collection series, I present Wings Spread Wide.

Wings Spread Wide. Ser Jonathan Aragon had been told those words since he entered the world. After all, they were the words that defined House Aragon.

Jonathan was welcomed back to his childhood home of Ender's Edge by a small party made up of his father, Lord Ender Aragon, his younger sister Alectra, and his youngest brother Percival. Lord Ender's third child, Jasper, was a squire for Lord Tollett at Grey Glen. Lord Ender was used to having his children away from home anyway – Jonathan had squired for Ser Wallace Waynwood across Broken Wheel Lake at Ironoaks for seven years, and he had stayed at Ironoaks for another four. Alectra had also been visiting the Paps many times over the past few months to meet with her betrothed, Arden Elesham. However, Ser Jonathan could only look at House Aragon's situation and smile, because with all the wars going on in the rest of Westeros, the Vale remained peaceful and uninvolved. At least until Baelish.

 _Petyr Baelish_ , thought Jon, _that slimy little worm thinks he can run the Vale?_ Petyr Baelish showed up at the Eyrie a few months ago with Lady Lysa Arryn, and when she died, took over the Vale. After her death, Lady Anya Waynwood called her vassal houses together, and it was Lord Ender who encouraged her to sign the declaration and join Bronze Yohn in taking down Littlefinger. Of course, the plan went downhill, with Ser Harrold Hardyng being pledged to Baelish's bastard. The heir to the Vale, promised to a bastard! Of course, with any Arryn on that weirwood throne, it would be unthinkable, but Littlefinger always did the unthinkable.

"Jon! Welcome home!" announced Lord Ender.

Lord Ender Aragon was a burly man, aged seven-and-forty, with a battle-hardened demeanor and a permanent scowl. On his left cheek, he bore a claw mark scar from his initiation as lord of Ender's Edge. Before any Aragon could inherit the castle, he must bring his hawk, the one given to him as a babe, to the center cage of the Aragon aviary, which proved to be much harder than it seemed. Lord Ender was given a particularly unruly hawk as a child, which was dubbed Scarmaker after his initiation incident, though traditionally Aragon hawks had no name, in accordance with the house's founder, Lord Emmon Aragon, and his hawk.

"Father," exclaimed Jon back, and he embraced his father with open arms. Alectra came up to him and hugged him as well, though Percival stayed back with Ser Robar Stone, the castle's master-at-arms. It was no surprise, since Jonathan had not been at Ender's Edge since before Percival was born.

"I've been planning a grand feast for your return, Jon. I've called upon the greatest cooks from around Broken Wheel Lake to help. It's just so good to have you back!" said Lord Ender, with a jovial expression that deeply clashed with his hardened facial features.

It turned out that the feast was just as good as Jon's lord father promised, though not as grand. The feast had near three dozen attendees, though there were only three dozen people living at Ender's Edge. Lord Ender's wife, Lady Rowena Coldwater, had brought forty soldiers and fifty other companions with her to Ender's Edge, but all of them were called back to Coldwater Burn by Lord Royce after Rowena's death some three or four years ago. So, it was only Lord Ender, the three Aragon children, and a couple soldiers and servants.

Jon decided to enjoy the evening, for it was a joyous occasion. After the meal, Jon would recite stories of his time at Ironoaks, Alectra would speak of her time at the Paps, Lord Ender would inform Jon of the happenings around the area, and together the three of them would gather around Percival's bed and tell him the story of Merle Aragon, the famed sorcerer who reportedly slew the Lord of Ironoaks and then fled to Essos to become a magic warrior. _This is what family feels like_ , thought Jon.

Alectra went to sleep shortly thereafter, and so Lord Ender and Ser Jonathan sat by the fire and discussed various things, but it became boring fast.

"I wish to go to the aviary, I haven't seen my hawk in eleven years," said Ser Jon.

"I assume you would," said Lord Ender, "that bird's a fine thing. Seeing it fly over the lake is a pretty sight, its silver feathers glittering among the clouds. When you become lord of Ender's Edge, I assume he'd like to fly around some more."

Ender's Edge was a five-towered castle, with walls linking the towers together, and in the center was the aviary. It was a large iron structure with thatched roofing so that air was free to come and go, and in the center was the lord's cage. The lord's cage was made of interwoven electrum and pale steel, metals stolen by their Aragon ancestor Emmon the Snatcher from the Citadel sometime before Aegon's landing. Lord Ender's large brown hawk was sleeping, so the two tried not to disturb it. Near the lord's cage was an oak tree surrounded by cages meant for the lord's children, the biggest of which contained Jon's hawk. When Jon first got his hawk, it was a small hatchling, and it wasn't much bigger when he left for Ironoaks, but now the hawk was the size of a goat, with glittering silver plumage and black claws and beak to match.

"Now, what does that look like to you?" asked Lord Ender.

When Jon looked at his hawk, he saw the banner of House Aragon. The maester at Ironoaks had taught him heraldry, and the first banner he learned was _gules a hawk soaring argent, armed sable_. While there was no red background in the dead of night, he saw the silver hawk with black claws and a black beak pictured on the banner of his house. He could see those words, Wings Spread Wide, written right below it. _It must mean something_ , thought Jon.

Ender and Jon returned to the parlor, greatly impressed by the hawk, and their thoughts turned to some of the stranger legends surrounding House Aragon.

"You remember all those years ago when Lady Waynwood accused me of skinchanging?" asked Lord Ender. It was truly a funny story – Lady Anya Waynwood arrived at Ender's Edge and put forth the accusation that Ender Aragon skinchanged into his hawk and attacked the men-at-arms of Ironoaks. Truth be told, the Aragons always had recurring dreams about hawks, which the family endearingly dubbed "feather dreams," but it wasn't exactly skinchanging. There were stories of First Men warging and northmen fucking animals, but no proud Andal house would ever delve into such terrors.

"That was pretty funny," said Jon.

"Aye, but she took me away from you that day." Jon was forced to squire for Ser Wallace as punishment for Ender's "offense."

"But here I am, father. Here forever."

 _Oh, the irony_.

Ender's Edge did not have a Maester, so the Aragons kept raven boys to keep track of messages. One of the newer ones, a boy named Addam, came in brandishing a message from Ironoaks.

"To Lord Ender of House Aragon, Lord of Ender's Edge," read Lord Ender. "Dear Lord Ender, I request your attendance at Ironoaks as House Waynwood and our bannermen travel to the Gates of the Moon for the wedding of Ser Harrold Hardyng and Lady Alayne Stone. Please bring Ser Jonathan, Alectra, and Percival if you so choose, and I can personally arrange for young Jasper to return from Grey Glen if it please you. Regards, Lady Anya Waynwood, Lady of Ironoaks."

"What in the name of the Seven has Littlefinger pulled out of his slimy arse this time?" asked Jon, infuriated.

"Shite, that's what! Littlefinger's arranged for his bastard bitch to marry the heir to the Vale, and he'll probably kill Lord Arryn like he killed Lady Lysa! That man has shite for honor, and an arse for a brain! I'll not pledge my loyalty to Littlefinger's bastard if that man sliced off my cock himself!" Lord Ender had undying loyalty to the Arryns, and it hit him hardest when news came about Harry the Heir's betrothal, same as it did when Lady Lysa died, and Lord Jon before that.

"So," said Jon, "what do we do?"

"We are pledged to the Waynwoods of Ironoaks. If Lady Anya wants our companionship, I say we give her our damn companionship, but I'll be damned if we play into Littlefinger's schemes. I'll catapult him back to King's Landing myself if he pulls any tricks at this wedding, and I'm sure he can come up with something worse than marrying the heir to the Vale to a fucking bastard."

"I'll ready the horses," said Ser Jonathan, and the decision was made.


	4. Wings Spread Wide: Chapter 2

Wings Spread Wide

Hello readers, sorry about the delay. It's 1 AM after Thanksgiving, and I've been really busy these past few weeks. This may seem a bit anticlimactic at the end, but I can assure you the story is nowhere close to done. I may or may not be abandoning Breaking the Wheel/Fire and Ice and simply tell the story of my TWOW/ADOS through some mini-stories. If I end up doing this, then my next story will be about the King's Landing plotline, told through the perspective of a suspicious character. Winter is coming, and so is more content, this I promise.

Jonathan Aragon arrived at Ironoaks at dawn, a full hour ahead of his father's escort. Lady Waynwood greeted him herself at the gates.

"Ser Jonathan, did you enjoy your trip back home to Ender's Edge?" asked Lady Anya. Anya Waynwood was never a particularly emotional woman, but she was always cordial and thus felt obliged to welcome back Jon. "I hope your lord father does not mind that I have asked him here on such short notice."

"Never a displeasure to serve you, Lady Waynwood," said Jon, bowing.

Ser Harrold Hardyng was sparring in the courtyard with one of the men-at-arms. His playful demeanor was very uncharacteristic of a man to be wedded, but Harry the Heir never thought he would wed. Jon thought of his experiences with Harrold as a squire for Ser Wallace, and he remembered the various pranks he would play on the residents of the castle, the sexual advances he would make towards the serving women, and the outrage of Lady Waynwood when Harry brought his bastard Alys home. _They didn't call him Harry the Arse for nothing,_ thought Jon.

An hour later, Lord Ender arrived, along with the few soldiers the Aragons had, as well as Ser Robar and Percival. Jon inferred that Alectra had stayed behind, and that she would be taken to the Paps by the Eleshams soon.

"Lord Aragon, how good to see you," said Lady Anya.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Ser Harrold looks as fit for a wedding as ever, just as my son has told me," lied Lord Ender.

"My lady," said Jon, "when will we be departing?"

"You were the last ones to arrive. The Creeks came a day ago, and Lord Ironbar took his host directly to the Gates," said Lady Waynwood.

"Then we should saddle up," said Jon, and the Waynwood host assembled.

The journey was rough, but Ironoaks was only a two days' ride from the Gates of the Moon, thanks to Rowena's Pass, a mountain road commissioned by Lord Jasper Arryn some fifty years ago. Along the way, Jon talked with his lord father, and what would be done about the castle while they were away.

"I named Ser Marq castellan of Ender's Edge during our trip to the Gates," said Lord Ender. Ser Marq was a hedge knight from one of the villages around Broken Wheel Lake who lived at the castle.

Jon also rode alongside Lady Anya for a time, and she began to speak of who would be coming to the wedding.

"Littlefinger invited Bronze Yohn and Lyonel Corbray to the reception, but I doubt that will end well."

"My lady, I understand why Lord Royce would be invited, as Lord Nestor is castellan of the Gates of the Moon, but why Lord Corbray?" asked Jon.

"No doubt Ser Lyn has been bought out," said Lady Waynwood. "Speaking of buying out, did you hear the news from Braavos? The Iron Bank is backing Stannis Baratheon! Can you believe it?"

"The Vale remains neutral throughout this conflict, and the only liege I know is House Waynwood. Whoever you support, my lady, I will defend their honor with my life," said Jonathan.

"You're a true knight, Ser Jonathan. You certainly have more honor and bravery than most of the knights nowadays. Littlefinger has a hedge knight from Crackclaw Point manning his guards, but your lord father should be proud to have you as a son."

"Thank you, my lady. House Aragon has always taught bravery, honor, and dignity."

"I must needs some when I am forced to look at Petyr Baelish's slimy face once more."

Eventually, they reached the Gates of the Moon, a gallant white castle sprawling across the base of the mountain upon which the Eyrie was situated high above. The three waycastles Snow, Sky, and Stone glimmered above, and the afternoon sun cast a gorgeous light on the snow-covered path.

At the entrance to the keep, Petyr Baelish came out with Lord Nestor Royce and his bastard daughter Alayne Stone. Lady Anya rode in the front of the host, along with Harry the Heir.

"Lady Waynwood, a pleasure to see you again," said Littlefinger cordially.

"Greetings, Lord Baelish. It is my pleasure to present my ward, and heir to the Vale, Ser Harrold Hardyng," said Lady Anya, and Harry stepped forward.

Harrold dismounted his horse and approached Alayne, giving her a kiss on the hand. _How many other women have you done that to, Harry the Arse?_ thought Jon. Alayne was pretty, truth be told, but she was obviously not from the Vale. She had the Riverlands look of the Tullys of Riverrun, or perhaps the Starks of Winterfell. Alayne had black hair and dainty features, but she emanated an aura of bravery.

"Please, come in," said Baelish, and the host began to dismount and carry their belongings elsewhere. "Mya, find someone to take these horses to the stables."

The Gates of the Moon was even more wonderful on the inside, with special decorations set up for the wedding; the red chequy of House Hardyng, blue and white for House Arryn, and green mockingbirds for House Baelish.

"Lady Anya, the wedding will occur on the morrow at sunset," said Littlefinger.

"We have already made clothing custom for Ser Harrold," said Lord Nestor Royce.

Finally they came to the dining hall, where Bronze Yohn sat with his family.

"Lady Waynwood, lovely as always," said Lord Yohn. "Would you mind if we talked in private?"

"Not at all, my lord. Would you please excuse us?" she said to her company, and they left to go set up tents. Then she turned to Jon. "Not you, Ser Jonathan. My lord, I hope you do not mind if Jon stays with us. I would feel safer if he did."

"Safety is always welcome, especially in the company of Lord Baelish."

Jon stood posted by the door, listening to the conversation.

"Who else is here, Lord Royce?"

"My men arrived here three days ago, but Lyn Corbray arrived a week in advance. He's been spending much time with Littlefinger lately."

"I do not doubt that Ser Lyn is Littlefinger's man, but he would never do anything to sabotage the wedding of the heir to the Vale."

"Now the heir, maybe not tomorrow. I daresay Lyn Corbray plans to harm the young Lord Robert during the wedding feast."

"Lyn Corbray would never do such a thing."

"Lyn Corbray is motivated by boys and gold, things Petyr Baelish has lots of. If he is being promised asylum at Harrenhal, he will do anything Littlefinger bids."

"Lord Royce, I dearly hope that you are mistaken. Farewell, my lord."

Anya Waynwood left the dining hall, and Jon followed.

At sunset on the morrow, Jonathan, Percival, and Lord Ender Aragon prepared for the wedding.

"I hope this wedding doesn't turn out to be another bloodbath," said Lord Ender.

"Poor Robb Stark," moaned Percival.

Jon kept silent, though he had to tell someone. When he finished dressing for the event, he found Ser Lothor Brune manning the entrance to the castle.

"Good evening, Ser Lothor," said Jon courteously.

"'Evening," said Brune.

Jonathan made his way to the reception hall and sat on the left side. Alayne Stone stood on the right side, elegant as ever, in a dress of cloth-of-silver with white Myrish lace lining it. A mockingbird brooch held her dress in place, giving off an emerald glow in the dim light. Jon decided to wish her congratulations.

"Congratulations, Lady Alayne," he said, bowing. "May your marriage be blessed by the Seven."

"Many thanks, ser. I have not caught your name," said Alayne.

"Jonathan Aragon. My lord father is sworn to House Waynwood of Ironoaks."

"I apologize if I do not know where that is exactly, my lord father rarely lets me out of his sight."

"Your father is a good man," Jon lied, "He truly knows what he is doing, as Lord Protector, of course."

"I hope so. It was nice to meet you, Ser Jonathan."

"A pleasure, my lady," said Jon, and he walked off.

More people shuffled into the hall, and finally the septon took his place in the middle. Harry the Heir stood to the left, in a sky blue and white doublet, but his cloak was red and white chequy, the colors of House Hardyng. To the right, Alayne was speaking with her father, who was wearing all black. Jon looked around at the rest of the crowd, and was unfortunately unsurprised to notice Ser Lyn Corbray's absence, as well as the absence of Lord Robert. He pondered whether he should tell Lord Ender, Lady Anya, or even Bronze Yohn, but if this was going to happen, there was no way to stop it. _If the Lord of the Vale dies by Lyn Corbray's hand, I will impale Littlefinger myself._

"We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. May their union be blessed by the Seven. May the Mother watch over them, may the Father judge them justly, may the Crone give them wisdom, and may the Smith help them build their lives together."

Jon could see the anxiety in the attendees' eyes; Alayne was visibly distressed, Harry was waiting for it to be over, Lady Waynwood and Lord Royce knew what was coming, and even Littlefinger was nervous.

As the septon finished with his speech, Harry the Heir draped Alayne Stone with his cloak, and the two were officially wed. Many people applauded, but Jonathan could only think of what happened while the wedding was going on. He ran off in search of Ser Lothor Brune.

"Where is Lord Arryn?" asked Jon hurriedly.

Brune looked at him oddly, "What do you need with the young lord Robert?"

"Lady Waynwood sent me to visit him on her behalf," Jon lied.

"Take a left, and it's the third chamber on your right."

Jon ran off to Robert Arryn's chambers, and when he approached the door, he saw that it was locked. He unsheathed his sword and heaved it at the door. _I deeply hope my suspicions are confirmed, or else I've just cut down the door of the Lord of the Vale._

Sure enough, his unfortunate suspicions were confirmed as he bust down the door. Robert Arryn lay face down, a sword gash running along his back to his arse, which was bubbling with blood. It was a horrifying sight to see, and Jon was the first one to see.

As he hurried back to the reception area, he ran straight to Lord Royce.

"My lord, you must needs see this," said Jon.

"What has happened, ser?" asked Bronze Yohn.

"It's the Lord of the Vale, the young lord Robert. It was Littlefinger's plan all along."

"This can't be," Bronze Yohn shook his head.

"I am afraid it is, my lord."

Bronze Yohn followed Jon as they went back to the scene of the murder. Yohn Royce stared at the body, motionless and unblinking, until he finally said, "These cuts . . . so deep."

"My lord, I've played at swords my whole life, and I've never seen a sword do this kind of damage in my life."

"Valyrian steel," mumbled Lord Royce. "The only man here who has a Valyrian blade is-"

"Lyn Corbray," finished Jon.

"Yes, Lyn Corbray. Ser, call in Lady Waynwood, her vassals, and all my vassals, but most of all, call in Littlefinger."

Jon ran back to the reception once again, where he called out, "The young lord of the Vale wishes to bid us all a good night, but he is too weak to move from his bed. He requests that we all move to his quarters to wish him a peaceful rest." It was only half a lie, since Robert Arryn was truly too weak to rouse from bed, but not because of a shaking fit.

The crowd followed Jon, but Littlefinger and Alayne sped ahead, which was highly suspicious. When they all reached the young lord's quarters, a flurry of gasps was heard. One of Lord Royce's vassals threw up on the floor at the sight. Jon stood back with Lord Ender, who looked so angry he could be mistaken with a tomato. Finally, someone spoke, and the voice belonged to Lady Waynwood.

"Who in the name of the Seven would do such a thing?"

"Lord Royce was here before all of us," said Alayne.

Jon said, "Only because I called him here."

"So you did it?" asked Lord Ironbar, one of the vassals to Ironoaks.

"My sword could never do such damage," retorted Jon.

"It seems to be the work of Valyrian steel," agreed Lord Royce.

"You mean to blame Ser Lyn Corbray," snickered Petyr Baelish. "Was he not allied with the Lords Declarant, Lord Royce?"

"Ser Lyn left our cause recently, Lord Protector," said Lady Anya.

"I believe the ability to push blame belongs to my lord husband, the new Lord of the Vale," said Alayne.

"Right you are, my sweetling," said Littlefinger. "Lord Harrold, who do you think performed this atrocity?"

A long pause followed, before Harry said, "I think it was you, Lord Petyr. Ser Lyn is your man, we all know. Otherwise he would not be here at this wedding."

Petyr Baelish looked around, and fingered his goatee. Then he ran, and Alayne Stone followed.

"We ride to Harrenhal, my lords," said Bronze Yohn.


	5. Lion of Lannister: Chapter 1

Lion of Lannister

Hello, my fellow crows. This will be the last of my mini-stories that will cover the events of my envisioned TWOW, along with A Bright Flame and Wings Spread Wide. This story is told from the perspective of an already introduced character, and will cover the events that go down in King's Landing, starting almost directly after the death of Ser Kevan Lannister. Happy reading.

"Ser, the queen will see you now."

Ser Meryn Trant was the first to greet him when he arrived at King's Landing. It was he who arranged for Cersei Lannister to see him, and it was he who got him a room in Maegor's Holdfast.

"Dear cousin, welcome to the capital," said the queen.

"MY FATHER IS DEAD!" Martyn Lannister screamed at the queen, who sat smug upon her crimson and gold ornate chair.

"Cousin, Ser Kevan was my uncle as well. All of us here are devastated by his death, but I know that we will avenge him. Your father was killed by Tyrion."

"Tyrion? Our own Tyrion? Are you blind as well as mad, Cersei?"

"I understand your grief, cousin, but do know that I could have you locked up for that remark."

"My father is dead! You say that my lord father was your uncle, but he was Tyrion's as well! The Tyrion that I knew would never . . ."

"Tyrion killed Lord Tywin in cold blood, he murdered my son the king, and attacked my daughter in Dorne just this moon's turn," said Cersei, as emotionless as a statue. "Ser Martyn, I did not call you here to King's Landing simply to curse me. The Hand of the King wishes that you become an adviser on the small council, as . . . an unbiased representative of the Rock. He awaits you in the throne room."

Martyn descended the steps from Cersei's quarters in Maegor's Holdfast and crossed the moat to the outer shell of the Red Keep. Meryn Trant showed him to the throne room, and presented him to the Hand, who was seated upon the Iron Throne.

Mace Tyrell was a portly man with a thick moustache, and did not exert a particularly powerful demeanor, such as that of Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark, or Jon Arryn.

"My lord Hand," announced Trant, "Ser Martyn of the House Lannister."

"Thank you, Ser Meryn. A pleasure to see that you have arrived safe and sound to the capital, ser. I thought for sure your dear cousin had placed some trap along the gold road. Oh, how I fear for Princess Myrcella," sighed Lord Tyrell.

"Thank you, my lord," said Martyn, wondering about his remark regarding Myrcella. "I was informed you wished that I become an adviser on the small council."

"Indeed," Tyrell chuckled, "In a case of unfortunate circumstances, we no longer have a councilmember with the interests of Casterly Rock at heart. We would have asked your older brother Lancel, but he has given himself to the gods, and so here you are."

"Here I am," Martyn agreed.

"Please walk with me," said Lord Tyrell, rising from the Iron Throne. "A council meeting is to be held soon, and I would like to show you where we are to meet."

Mace Tyrell moved swiftly, his cloth-of-gold cloak billowing lightly in the winter wind, and it was hard for Martyn to keep up. They climbed staircases, crossed bridges, and eventually came to a grand room with marble walls freshly painted with murals.

"I wanted to continue holding council in the old council room, but Qyburn was informed that a wildfire cache was planted behind one the walls, so I had this room commissioned." Tyrell turned to face Martyn. "Behind you is a fresco depicting the Battle of the Blackwater, painted by one of the residents of Highgarden." He pivoted his left foot and turned, pointing at another mural. "That one was created by an artist from Rosby, in memory of our fallen king."

Martyn looked up, expecting to see a painting of King Joffrey, gallantly riding a stallion, or something of the like. However, it turned out to be a depiction of Robert Baratheon's legendary duel with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, a design choice Cersei was not like to be happy with. Everyone at the Rock had learnt about her children's true parentage, ever since Jaime Lannister was captured at the Whispering Wood.

"The painting are wonderful, my lord Hand," said Martyn, and Lord Tyrell chuckled.

"Spare me your courtesies, good ser. Most of these look horrid, but our sweet queen sent all the good artists off to die. Anyway, I figure we should wait until the other councilors arrive. We should not need wait for more than an hour."

Wait they did, though it seemed Lord Tyrell was wrong. It was already high noon when Lord Paxter Redwyne arrived, two hours past Martyn's arrival in the room. Lord Randyll Tarly arrived not long after him, and Ser Harys Swyft only a minute after.

"This council is officially called to order," said Lord Tyrell to the four other men in the room. "It seems we are a few men short, most unfortunately."

"Kevan Lannister and Pycelle killed, all within one day," sighed Harys Swyft.

"We have a handful of other matters to discuss as well, Ser Harys, and I mean to fix them today," said Mace Tyrell, with an uncharacteristic steel in his voice, if the rumors were to be believed. "Her Grace the queen's trial is to be held in a moon's turn, the king has lost yet another Regent, the Citadel has yet to send us another Grand Maester, and we have no master of whisperers, and our Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is off in the Riverlands doing gods know what. Prince Doran Martell has informed that his niece Nymeria Sand will be serving as an advisor on this council, and I have invited Martyn Lannister as an advisor since Ser Kevan has departed this world so swiftly. So, our first order of business, to find King Tommen a new Regent."

"My lord, why does the king need a Regent?" asked Randyll Tarly. "He has a stellar Hand, and wonderful councilors to make sure his mother does not further ruin this city."

"Rhaegar Targaryen's son has landed in the Stormlands, Daenerys Targaryen has dragons in the east, Stannis marches on Winterfell within a moon's turn, and the Wall won't shut up about Others. We need all the men we can get."

"Has Lord Hightower reported on the election of Grand Maester?" asked Lord Redwyne.

Martyn rose his head, "Can the king ask specifically for a certain maester to become Grand Maester if we make a good enough argument?" Martyn felt stupid, but it was worth a shot.

"What do you propose, ser?" asked Harys Swyft.

"My lord father took me to Oldtown once to see the Citadel, and I learned all the Archmaesters' names. If I am correct, Archmaester Ryam wears a mask and ring of electrum."

"Get to the point," grumbled Swyft.

"Electrum is the metal of economics. We can't buy an army to crush the rebels, we can't pay back our debt to the Iron Bank, and we can't reassert His Grace's presence as the true king without gold. Archmaester Ryam has studied so much on the subject of finances that they made him Archmaester for it, and, with no offense, Ser Harys needs all the help he can get."

"Seems like you've chosen a good advisor," chuckled Lord Tarly.

"It seems I have," echoed Mace Tyrell. "So, my well-chosen advisor, who do you propose we should name Regent for the His Grace?"

"I do believe that the King may want to choose a Regent for himself," said Martyn. "His Grace is now eight years old, he should start learning how to be a ruler."

"Ser Martyn, that sounds like it may work. Please fetch His Grace for us, we would be most grateful," said Lord Tyrell.

Martyn climbed stairs walked the parapets of the Red Keep and over the dry moat to the castle-within-a-castle that was Maegor's Holdfast. He found Ser Boros Blount and Ser Robert Strong positioned outside King Tommen's door.

"Ser Robert," said Martyn to the silent giant, "Ser Boros. The Hand of the King requests that His Grace attend the small council meeting currently going on."

"His Grace is with the Dowager Queen. Ser Robert, please take him to the queen's quarters."

Robert Strong nodded, and began to walk. Cersei wondered where Strong had been before he was named to the Kingsguard. Perhaps in Essos, with his exiled brethren, or perhaps still hiding in Harrenhal. The gargantuan monster they called a knight was mysterious in many ways.

"Come in," said Queen Cersei when Strong rapped on her door. "Ahh, Ser Martyn."

"Lord Tyrell, the Hand of the King, has requested that King Tommen join his councilors at the small council meeting."

"And why is this," asked Cersei.

"Lord Tyrell wanted His Grace's opinion on who his Lord Regent should be until he comes of age," said Martyn emotionlessly, hiding his contempt for his cousin.

"Ser Martyn, you are a Lannister, are you not?"

"Indeed I am."

"And you know that His Grace is married to Margaery Tyrell, do you not?"

"I know."

"Then you should know that my son will choose some Reach lord instead of a Lannister as his Regent if his whore of a wife so much as hints at it. For all we know, Mace Tyrell could become the new Regent."

"I see you mistrust the Tyrells, Your Grace."

"The Tyrells got me into the mess I am in now. I have a trial coming in one moon's turn, and I refuse to have Meryn Trant or Boros Blount fight for me." Cersei was sobbing now.

"My queen, my lord the Hand really does need the King's presence at the meeting."

"Take him, but I ask only one favor of you," Cersei wailed, "The High Septon . . . he has called for a trial by seven. Fight for me. You're my only hope."

Martyn Lannister studied his cousin carefully. It was very unlike her to be this desperate, but Martyn saw no choice. "I will fight in your trial by combat, but not for you. I will fight for House Lannister, because Casterly Rock cannot suffer the dishonor of its reigning lady being executed for adultery." Martyn raised a fist. "I will not let my family down."


End file.
